


Happy Christmas, from Egypt

by rileypotter17



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Archaeology Bear and Dragon Fair, F/M, Love Letters, professor mormont, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileypotter17/pseuds/rileypotter17
Summary: A companion fic to "From Egypt, With Love." "Happy Christmas, From Egypt" explores three Christmases in the blossoming relationship between Dr. Jorah Mormont, famed archaeologist, and Dr. Daenerys Targaryen, renowned Egyptology Curator.
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 28
Kudos: 34
Collections: Winter Jorleesi 2020





	Happy Christmas, from Egypt

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and happy Jorleesi Winter Event 2020! I am in awe of all of the talent in this group, as usual.
> 
> I sincerely wish I could have had my entire fic ready to go - but ahh, such is life in 2020, so please humbly accept my first chapter with the knowledge that the other two will be here soon.
> 
> It is not necessary to read "From Egypt, With Love", to understand this, but this is set in the same universe and begins two years ahead of when that story starts, when Jorah and Daenerys have first met.

_The British Museum, London, December 15, 1952_

“Who are you spending Christmas with this year, Dany?”

Dr. Daenerys Targaryen looked across the table laden with broken pieces of the lid of the sarcophagus of Ramses VI at her curatorial assistant best friend Missandei, affectionately known to her as Missy, and glared. The dark-haired beauty, who was twice as clever as she was gorgeous, was carefully cleaning some dirt from the crevice of a piece she was working on. And smirking.

Missy was quiet, even around Daenerys. When she spoke, she had a reason behind what she said and hers was exceptionally transparent now.

“No one.” Daenerys replied, rubbing a thumb across the badly damaged stone under her own hands.

“Not Dr. Mormont?” Missy broke into a full smile. They were alone in the work room used by all of the curators sorting through new acquisitions. But even still, Daenerys put a finger to her lips.

“Don’t say his name.” She whispered. “He’s _married._ ”

“And in love with you. Didn’t you say he was getting divorced?”

“Missy, we can’t talk about this right now.”

“It’s just us. Dany, I saw the way he looked at you at the gala. And then you both just... _disappeared_.”

Daenerys looked back down at the stone head of Ramses VI staring up at her in a feeble attempt to hide the blush that colored her cheeks and neck. “That was two months ago. He’s in Cairo now and yes, he did write that he asked his wife for a divorce. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“The man spent an hour with you and wants to leave his wife for you. What did you do to him? Please tell me!” Missy pressed her palms together, theatrically miming a plea for the secret knowledge.

“Nothing. _We did nothing_.” The memory of her and Jorah Mormont’s searing first kissing alone in the room of the museum that held the Elgin marbles played through Daenerys’ head. She bit her lip. _Nothing._

“Mhmm. Alright. Well, you can always come ‘round mine and we can do a small roast and get drunk.” Missy shrugged and started to focus back on her work. Her friend was stubborn, and she knew not to push her on certain things.

“That sounds nice, yeah.”

“’Morning ladies. Stopped by the boxes on the way in.” Samwell Tarley, one of the Modern Egyptology researchers that she supervised, entered the work room and handed a small parcel to Missandei from the mail room and a few letters to Daenerys.

Daenerys nodded her ‘good morning’ and as Sam took his place at the far end of the worktable and slipped on his gloves, she started going through the stack of mail. The annual invitation to her brothers’ fancy holiday party. _Pass_. Past due fees for her London Archaeological Society membership. _Oop_ s. And then her heart skipped a beat.

The third letter was postmarked from Cairo.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Daenerys said as calmly as she could manage before she made her way out of the work room, through the neatly labeled boxes and shelving of the smaller artefacts in the archive, and to her office, shutting the door behind her.

She grabbed her letter opener and sat down in her chair. This was only the second letter she had received from Jorah, but she would recognize his neat handwriting anywhere.

_Sweet Dany,_

_I apologize that my previous letter was so short and quite possibly very bewildering, as I sent it the day I arrived in Cairo. I was intent on getting something to you as soon as possible to let you know how I felt. And what I asked of my wife. I haven’t yet heard from her. As I wrote to you before, she didn’t say anything when I asked for the divorce. And time has not softened my intentions to end that chapter of my life and pursue a new one. My feelings for you have only grown._

_I realize now that the letter I sent must have seemed mad. It wasn’t my intent to come off so strong, but I wasn’t thinking straight. To be honest, I haven’t had a sane thought since I met you. Dany, please know that while our kiss revealed to me something I have known for a long time but never admitted to myself, that my marriage wasn’t working, by sharing that I want to leave my wife I am in no way asking you for anything._

_Since I haven’t heard back from you, I could assume that the kiss meant nothing and you have moved on or that I have scared you off._

_But I want to hope that it isn’t the case. That you think of me often as I do of you. That you are as excited to know about the dig here as I am excited to share it with you._

_I want to let you know that I will be back in London for Christmas and would like to see you. If that is something you want too, I’ll be elated. If you don’t, I will still be happy to share what we bring back to the museum. I can’t wait to see what your incredible mind will uncover and the mysteries you will unravel._

_Yours,_

_Jorah_

Daenerys rummaged around her messy desk for a blank piece of paper and a pen, but when she caught sight of the date on the letter, she paused. They were likely already preparing to head back to England and a letter would miss him. She would just have to wait.

**~o0o~**

“Lynesse!” Jorah called out when he stepped into his beautiful home on Cadogan Lane in Belgravia. His voice was met with silence. He set his bag down and started to wander through the house.

He had been clear with Lynesse the night before he left that he was done and wanted her out before he returned from Cairo, which he estimated would be the week of Christmas. He owned the house and everything in it outright and felt he was perfectly within his rights to make such a request. But even though she wasn’t home, her clothes were still in the closet and dirty dishes were in the sink. He felt like a fool for thinking it would be that easy to end it and get rid of her.

She liked his money and his prestige that gave him a bit of fame with the cultured, socialite set, and therefore, opened doors for the type of unhurried, ‘ladies who lunch at Harrods’ lifestyle Lynesse craved.

Jorah’s father had very rightly pointed out that he felt she would contribute next to nothing to their marriage except a pretty face and good-looking children - that she didn’t know the value of hard work with her hands. And, as it turned out, Lynesse had become very uninterested in having children after their lavish wedding. Jorah really wouldn’t have minded – motherhood was a woman’s choice, after all – it was more that she had told him repeatedly that she wanted to have a family with him and then suddenly acted as if she had never said such a thing.

Jorah made his way back to the sitting room where Lynesse loved to entertain her friends and was shocked at how messy the entire house was. Her clothes were strewn everywhere. He had let their maid go – as he was anticipating coming back to live alone and he was always neat – but clearly Lynesse had no intention of cleaning up after herself. He went to move some of the clothes so that he could sit down in his favorite chair and think, when he saw a shirt that looked unfamiliar to him.

He turned it over in his hands. It was a man’s collared shirt. One look inside of the collar and the hand-made label told him all he needed to know. Jorah never bought bespoke clothes from Saville Row.

“Right...” Jorah concluded out loud, sighing. The thought of another man in his house stung as did the nerve of the woman he wanted so badly to be uncoupled from.

He didn’t know what to do next – he had never expected having to face anything like it. As he plodded back to the bedroom, he stripped off his grimy shirt. He hadn’t had a chance to bathe since he stepped on the boat back to England. As he ran some hot water for a bath, he tried to get his mind to focus on the next logical steps. Bath. Shave. Fresh clothes. Call a barrister. Get to the museum. See _her_.

**~o0o~**

“That is quite a lot of money, Mormont.” Tyrion Lannister, Director of the British Museum, scoffed when Jorah’s right-hand-man and talented archaeologist in his own right, Dr. Grey, handed him the ledger of expenses they had incurred in Cairo on behalf of the museum.

Dr. Grey gave the short Director a stony glare. “Apologies, _Dr._ Mormont. It’s just a bit more than I was expecting.”

“Ten gilded sarcophagi and hundreds of other artefacts from the Ptolemaic Dynasty. And we still have an active dig site that we will be returning to after Boxing Day. _Ten._ I implore you to find another team who could bring you back that in two months.” Jorah shot back, his tone teetering on testy. He knew his first stop at the museum would have to be Tyrion, but it was taking longer than he thought it would.

“Alright...” Tyrion put his palms up in surrender, “I understand. Anything you both need, you will have.”

“I’d like to consult with Dr. Targaryen and her team before we have our guys move everything.” Jorah added, trying to tamp down his excitement. Dr. Grey met his eyes for a moment. The two of them shared no secrets.

“Of course, I’ll leave the rest up to her. You’ll find her on the ground floor. Ask any guard and they’ll lead you straight to her.” Tyrion waved them off dismissively, still eyeing the papers Dr. Grey had handed him. “Give me _twelve_ mummies next time, Mormont!”

Jorah would gladly give the man a hundred if he even had half a chance of being able to see Daenerys on a regular basis. He had thought about her every single day since they had met. She had a warmth that radiated from her and made him feel at ease. Their minds were perfect equals – he could see that instantly from the first conversation they had. And though he was only human and wanted her _badly_ , he also wanted to spend time with her, make her laugh, and learn about her.

He was nervous as a docent led the pair of them down to the storage, archives, and offices of the museum, worried that his letters had been too forward and that she would greet him with indifference, or _worse_ , annoyance.

But when he and Dr. Grey were ushered into the workspace where the docent said they would find the brilliant blonde, they were greeted only by a dark-haired woman with kind brown eyes who had carefully been examining a small pot.

“Can I help you?” She asked, and Jorah saw her eyes dart towards Dr. Grey and a tinge of color bloom on her caramel cheeks.

“I’m Dr. Mormont and this is Dr. Grey. We just arrived back from Cairo with a rather large acquisition for the Egyptology Department and I was looking for Dr. Targaryen.” Jorah offered, looking around for any sign of the woman who had been the star of his dreams for the last two months.

As he waited for an answer, he saw realization dawn on the woman’s face, and she broke into a smile.

“ _Oh_...Dr. Mormont. I’ve heard _quite_ a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“I’m Missandei, Daenerys’ Curatorial Assistant. She’s been expecting you but I’m afraid she’s been feeling poorly the last few days and hasn’t been here.” Missandei walked forward and shook his hand, and then Dr. Grey’s. Jorah saw the instant connection between his apprentice and her and it made him smirk.

But beyond the amusing frisson he had just witnessed, he really wanted to go back to what Missandei had heard about him. Did that mean Daenerys had spoken to her about him? Good things? Bad things? “That is unfortunate, as I was very much looking forward to showing her what we found. But we do need to unload the artefacts today, if possible.”

She called for someone and a man appeared from an office, looking quite frazzled. He had a baby face and a mop of messy brown hair on his head. “Samwell will organize everything with you and start the intake process. I’ll let Dr. Targaryen know you stopped by.”

“Thank you.” Jorah nodded as Samwell led them out of the curatorial space, excitedly asking Dr. Grey questions. But he couldn’t focus. In a few days he would be back on a boat and gone again. Without so much as a glimpse of her or a chance to explain himself.

The three of them were already up the stairs and walking through the public-filled museum when Jorah felt a slight tug on his shirt.

Missandei stood behind him when he turned, slightly out of breath and offering him a folded slip of paper before turning on her heel and retreating.

He unfolded it. _An address_.

**~o0o~**

Daenerys paced around her flat. She had been off of work for three days and had read five books, tidied everything twice over, and had even attempted to make homemade scones. They had turned out rubbish – like little burned pebbles.

She had also decorated for Christmas, but the baubles on her small tree didn’t cheer her. They only made her anxious. She couldn’t avoid work forever, and her feigned flu could only last so long. She was itching to get back to cataloguing and researching and everything else she loved.

She felt trapped, and also slightly ashamed of herself.

Daenerys was assertive and confident. She was hardly _ever_ intimidated. Her incredible career growth in a male-dominated world proved that she came back stronger from any disparaging thing a man had ever said about her brain, because she knew it simply wasn’t true.

And there she was, cowering in her flat, hiding from Jorah Mormont three days before Christmas.

She didn’t know exactly when he would be back in London, only that he would be there for the holiday and she knew he would come by the museum when he arrived.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him – she did. _Badly_. And his letters hadn’t scared her in the way he wrote that he feared they may have. Daenerys wasn’t put off by his feelings for her. She was scared of her feelings for _him_.

She knew that if she saw him, she wouldn’t be able to help herself. He was everything she could ever want in a man.

Except for the fact that he was married. _Why do you have such shit luck with men?_ She asked herself.

No matter what he said, if he wasn’t legally divorced from his wife, she wanted nothing to do with him. She was a woman with standards and principles. She wouldn’t be anyone’s mistress or secret girlfriend.

_No_ , she had been there before and wasn’t keen on going back to that type of life. So, he would get the hint sooner or later and she knew that while that one night they spent together, simply talking and sharing one kiss, would never be forgotten, it would be for the better. It had to be.

To get herself out of her head, she put a kettle on and a slightly warmer jumper, as her flat was rather drafty, and then nearly jumped when she heard a knock on the door.

Daenerys froze – she wasn’t expecting anyone and ignored the knock at first, but whoever it was only paused and tried again.

“Jorah?”

“You look...well. And beautiful...”

Daenerys stared at the man in her doorway, stunned at how close he was and how good he looked. The golden curls of his hair that kissed the nape of his neck practically glowed in the winter sunset that backlit him on the steps up to her door.

“How did you..?” Daenerys struggled to find words as she was too focused on the lean lines of his body, his Adam’s apple, and his unfairly blue eyes.

He held up a slip of paper in between two fingers. Missandei’s handwriting was easy to recognize. “Don’t be cross with her. You aren’t ill, are you?”

“No. I’m not.” Daenerys admitted sheepishly and finally stopped blocking the doorway, gesturing for him to come inside. He slipped by her, sensing her unease and was careful not to touch her. He set the wrapped package he was carrying down on her small coffee table.

“I seem to have completely misjudged this.” He said, looking lost, his eyes scanning her small flat and his palm rubbing the back of his neck.

“ _Jorah_...”

“I’m very sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you so uncomfortable that you have been pretending to be poorly to avoid me.” His face and neck continued to flush. She couldn’t stand to see him like that. It was clear he was trying to compose himself, but his skin and eyes betrayed him.

“I have been avoiding you, but it isn’t what you think. You’ve done nothing to make me uncomfortable, Jorah. I’ve re-read your letters dozens of times and truthfully, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again, more than you know. But when Christmas drew closer, I got scared. As much as I like you, _you are married_.” Daenerys bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from getting too emotional. It just didn’t seem fair.

Jorah grimaced. “I came home to find another man’s clothing all over my house. Does that help make the situation a little less morally questionable for you?”

“ _A little_.” Daenerys admitted. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him to her bedroom, but her past experiences and old wounds kept her rooted to where she stood.

“I’m going to get a divorce, Dany. I’ve called a barrister. I’m staying in a hotel.” There was no pleading in his tone, just simple facts. “And as I said in my letter, there’s no obligation for anything between us.”

“I don’t want to be a scandal. An ‘other woman’.”

“You could never be anything but a woman anyone would be proud to stand next to. You could, nor would, ever come second to me if I’m what you want.” Jorah promised.

“I think you are what I want.” Her voice shook and he gifted her with a smile at her offering of vulnerability.

“But I understand. If I were you, I certainly wouldn’t trust a man who you have only known for a few hours to follow through on any promises, especially one as big as leaving his wife.” Jorah nodded, but with a light tone, trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation, for which Daenerys was grateful, “This is all entirely on your terms, Dany.”

Comforted, Daenerys walked towards her small couch and patted the spot next to her. Jorah sat and handed her the package he had brought in with him.

“Your Christmas present. From Egypt, with love.”

Daenerys carefully slid a finger under the butcher paper and simple red ribbon that covered the box, and then lifted the lid. Inside was the most beautiful, patterned-silk scarf. As she lifted it out of the box, she marveled at the violet tones and the gold thread that was woven throughout it.

“It’s not an exact match for your eyes, but I spent a few hours looking at every single violet piece of fabric in the market there before I found this one. It just felt like you.”

“It’s exquisite.” Daenerys actually did think she’d never seen a color that so closely resembled her unique eyes and was deeply touched. “Thank you.”

“You have a few other presents that I left with Missandei and Samwell – although they weigh a ton and certainly would have not fit in the cab I took over here.” Jorah chuckled and so did she.

“I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“I think I’m lucky enough just to be sitting here with you. But maybe I could convince you to let me stop by on Christmas Day?” She looked at the handsome man sitting next to her and saw a boyish hope in his eyes.

He was _good_. He was wearing down her resolve so quickly and he didn’t even know it. _Or maybe he did_. But she would try and hold out on her more physical desires for as long as she could. She considered it a success that she hadn’t kissed him yet.

“How about a cup of tea today and we go from there?” She offered.

“A cup of tea sounds perfect.”


End file.
